


Kindred Spirits, part II

by Dianthus



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dianthus/pseuds/Dianthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what took so bloody long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirits, part II

**Author's Note:**

> Here there be spoilers.

  “Bloody Hell!”

  Killian rose from the bed on which he sat. It was not his bed back at Granny’s, and Emma was nowhere to be seen.

  “Spike, are you…? You’re not Spike.”

  “Ah…It’s ‘Hook’ actually.”

  He raised his left arm chest high for the benefit of the young woman standing in the doorway. She reminded him of Emma, in a way. She was pretty, with green eyes and fair hair, though hers was somewhat shorter than Emma’s. She was smaller overall, too.

  “Is this your room, Miss…?”

  A snippet of music burbled out behind him. He turned to locate the source.

  “Excuse me,” she said, and walked past him to the dresser where she’d left her phone. He couldn’t help but overhear.

  “Hey, Dawnie… Dawn... Dawn! Listen, I hate to burst your bubble, but it didn’t work… Well, I’m standing right here, looking at the man you sent me, and I’m telling you you’ve got the wrong guy. For one thing, he’s taller… You’ll see…. Yeah, soon as I get my coat, we’ll head on over to your place so you can fix this, assuming you want Spike back, of course... That’s what I thought. See you in a few.”

  She hung up and turned her attention back to not-Spike. There was a certain resemblance. He was built along the same lines, lean and athletic. He had the same sparkly blue eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a scar across his cheek.

  “Let’s try this again. Buffy Summers,” she said, extending a hand.

  He clasped it warmly with his own.

  “Captain Killian Jones.”

  “That’s not a costume, is it? ‘Cuz one year, at Halloween, I got turned into my costume. Well, into what I was costumed as. My friends Willow and Xander, too.”

  “No. It’s my usual attire.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you wear it really well, but isn’t it a bit much for every day?”

  “I honestly hadn’t considered it, but you may have a point. Now that I’ve chosen to be with Emma in Storybrooke, perhaps I should be dressing more like the others.”

  “You’ve prob’ly got, like, a ton of questions. I’ll just get my coat, and we can talk along the way.”

  “As you say.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk outside her building to remove his hook, which he slipped carefully into a coat pocket, and took a good look at his surroundings.

  “This is a city, is it not? Rather like New York.”

  “Right idea; wrong coast. This is San Francisco, The City by the Bay.”

  “So this is California, then. Will we see it along the way, this bay of yours? It looked most impressive on the map Emma showed me.”

  “As a matter of fact, we will. So who’s Emma?”

  “Emma Swan, my Princess. Would you like to see her?”

  “Sure.”

  He produced a cell phone from his coat. He paused a moment, as if in thought, then called it to action. He flicked through the prompts without further hesitation, and then he held it out so Buffy could see.

  “Hey, that’s you.”

  “Aye. And that’s Emma, sitting next to me.”

  “You look very happy.”

  “I like to think we are. This was taken about a week ago, by her son, Henry. D’you suppose… Should I try calling them?”

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  Both attempts proved unsuccessful.

  “Bother.”

  “Let’s get going, then. The sooner we get you to Dawn’s, the sooner we can get you back home. I hope.”

  She started walking, but pulled out her own cell. She fiddled with it briefly then showed it to him. A lovely young woman with long dark hair stood next to a man of indeterminate years, her arm casually draped around his neck. He had a shock of white-blond hair, and blue eyes under dark brows. They did, in fact, appear to be about the same height.

  “That’s Dawn. She’s my sister. Care to take a guess on him?”

  “Spike.”

  “AKA William the Bloody.”

  “And is he also a pirate of some sort? With a name like that, he’d fit right in.”

  “No. He‘s a vampire.”

  “A vampire - like Dracula from the movie? That’s bad, isn’t it? If he’s with Emma….”

  “She should be fine. Spike’s different. It’s like, say your body’s an apartment and your soul is the occupant. A vampire turns you, and you die. Your soul moves out and a demon moves in, taking over all your stuff. You know, like your memories. That’s kinda pirate-y, I guess. That’s how it was with him, for a long time, up until a few years ago. Now, his demon has a roommate.”

  “And, if I’m following your analogy, the roommate would be…his soul?” 

  “Uh-huh. Spike has a soul, and all the dimension-hopping he’s done hasn’t dislodged it so far. I can’t think how this time would be any different, despite your presence here.

  Look, I hope you don’t mind walking. I’ve never been a very good driver, and you don’t really need a car here anyway. We could hop on a cable car for part of the trip. They’re not much faster than walking, really, but they’re cute and fun. ‘Sides, you can’t really come all this way, and not take a ride on a cable car. It’s a part of the whole San Francisco experience.”

  “I’m unfamiliar with the concept, but as you recommend it, I’m amenable. There are many things in this realm, or more specifically, in Swan’s, which are more or less new to me. Cell phones, microwave ovens, cars, hot-and-cold running water in every home… a dazzling array of marvels.”

  “Spike’s been around for over a century, which means he’s from a time before a lot of what we take for granted today was even an idea. He’s pretty adaptable, though. Seems like you are too.”

  “I’ve had to be.”

  “I s’pose, what with losing your hand and all.”

  “Long before that, really, but yes, it was a big adjustment. Relearning once familiar tasks, even one so basic as feeding myself, proved quite challenging. It taught me patience and perseverance, two qualities that played a large part in my pursuit of Emma.”  

  “You’ve known each other a while, then?”

  “Two years or so. When we met, I was not then the man I am today. It took time, but thanks to her I’ve rediscovered my better self. Now I have a place at her side, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I am entirely at her command.”

  Buffy stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Your willing slave…,” she said, in a quiet voice.

  “Summers?”

  “Sorry, but I’m kinda freaking out here. You’re just too much like him.”

  “It is incredibly disconcerting to learn of this Other-self. Part of me rebels against the very notion, but you seem so terribly sincere. Worse yet, you tell me he was a monster, who spent years… nay, decades… feeding off the lives of others.”

  She gave him a smile.

  “I have a bad tendency to get wrapped up in my own stupid stuff. Fortunately, a certain someone is usually around to pull me out of it.”

  “As I understand it, there’s Dracula the monster, and then there’s Van Helsing the monster slayer. Where monsters are real, there are slayers as well, yes?”

  “Ok, you really need to stop doing that.”

  He laughed.

  “I had a feeling that might be the case, Summers. For one thing, you seem to know a lot about vampires. For another, you seem as accustomed to command as I am. In addition, I’ve worked with those with who I’d once been at odds, to defeat a greater foe.”

  “Including Emma.”

  “Precisely.”

  They started walking again.

  “We’ll be coming up to the Cable Car Turntable soon, but we won’t be getting on there. It makes other stops along the way, and we’ll catch it at one of those instead. Dawn’s place is more or less midway between two of the lines, so it doesn’t really matter which one we take, and you’ll get to see a bit of the bay and Chinatown too, either way.

  Other cities along the West Coast have Chinatowns, but ours is the oldest and largest. There’s really great food, and annual festivals, and lots of shopping. People come from all over the world to be part of it, if only for a few days. There’s also the bay, of course, and the Golden Gate Bridge, and Pier 39.

  California used to be part of Spain, too, so there’s the Presidio and Mission Dolores. Golden Gate Park is very nice, with the Japanese Tea Garden and the De Young museum. Haight/Ashbury isn’t too far from the park, and that area is a really big deal if you’re into the history of Rock’n’Roll. We won’t be seeing those. Sorry.”

 “I must confess having someone like you as a guide would’ve made New York far less intimidating. The number of people… the noise… the smell. The busiest ports of my realm were mere hamlets by comparison.”

  “Let me guess. Emma was there, and you had to find her.”

  “Aye. She had memories of a normal, happy life there, but they were all lies. Now she’s back where she belongs, in Storybrooke with her family. She has her real memories, her magic, and me.”

  “Well, stay close, ‘cuz Market Street and the turntable are just ahead of us. I found it a little intimidating myself at first, and I’m originally from Los Angeles.”

  “Another port city, if I recall correctly, located to the south, and San Diego below that.” 

  “For a stranger here, you know it pretty well.”

  “The coastal regions, yes. As for the bits in the middle, well, I confess they just don’t hold the same interest for me.”

  “You’re not alone there. Shipping is still a big deal for transporting stuff like cars and sneakers, but air travel is way faster if you’re going coast-to-coast, hence the term ‘fly-over country.’”

  “I’ve flown before, on a ship with a sail made of Pegasus feathers. That was also my first experience with Neverland. It did not end well.”

  “Not a big fan, huh?”

  “My brother Liam died of poison on that voyage. It was after that I commandeered the ship and turned pirate. The crew had great respect for him as their Captain, and they felt the same as I.”

  “Oh, wow. Sorry about your brother.”

  “It was… a long time ago.”

  “My mom died a few years back. She’d been in the hospital, but she made it through surgery and we all thought she was gonna be ok. It was very sudden.”

  “My condolences. There are those times when your whole life changes from one moment to the next, for good or ill.”

  They came to Market Street then, and it was very much like New York City all over again, to Killian’s way of thinking. The square beyond was also crowded and noisy. They raced across the street, and he was hard-pressed to keep up, even with his longer stride. She stopped when she reached the sidewalk then offered him her arm, which he took with a smile of gratitude.

  They walked arm in arm past the lines of people waiting at the turntable. Some of them spoke in languages totally foreign to his ears. Some had traveled far, but not so far as he.

  “If people are willing to queue up like this, I suppose the experience truly is a ‘big deal,’ as Emma might say.”

  “Oh, yeah. Most of these folks will stay on the whole way, to Fisherman’s Wharf. Others will go as far as Chinatown, some only to the Financial District. I have a monthly pass that allows me to ride all types of public transit here. Short-term passes like that are available for visitors, too.”

  “So how much is the fare? I am not without funds, you know.”

  “I don’t think they take doubloons.”

  She smiled to let him know she was teasing.

  “Doubloons? No… American dollars. Cash.”

  “Nuh-uh. My suggestion, my treat.”

  “Truly? That’s very generous of you, Summers.”

  “Well, there’s also the little matter of my sister being the one who brought you here. That kinda makes you my responsibility.”

  “I think if Swan were here she’d agree with you. We’ve been going through a similar situation back home. Nevertheless, I thank you.” 

  “So you accidentally brought someone over from their realm to yours?”

  “Her realm, yes, though it was no accident. Not only that, we brought her back to the future from the past. It’s all very complicated, and I know Emma has mixed feelings about it. She acted to save this woman’s life, and ended up reuniting her with her family no less, but there have been… unforeseen consequences. ”

  “Oh, I know all about those. They’ll getcha every time.”

  “This Spike of yours, you say he’s different than others of his kind.”

  “Mostly. He’s one of two souled vampires, and he’d tell you they’re nothing alike. Angel, he was originally cursed with his soul as a punishment. He… lost it, at one point, and he was his evil old self again. He really didn’t want it back, either. Willow has magic, so she tried re-cursing him. The first time, she got interrupted. The second time… well… let’s just say it was too little, too late, and leave it at that.

  Spike ended up choosing his, eventually. He faced the monster inside, and he fought back. I never would’ve believed it could really happen. He’s… the exception to a lot of rules.”

  “I should think he’d have to be, to win your favor.”

  “Oh, well, we’re not…we’ve been through a lot together…not all of it pretty.”

  “A shame.  Still, it sounds like he has some rudimentary understanding of Good Form, at least. I am vastly relieved to hear it. I’ve been told Swan once slew a dragon, before our paths crossed. I’ve seen her fight, and fought alongside her. I admire her courage and resourcefulness. Still, the thought of her facing such a threat, while I’m worlds away and helpless to do anything about it….”

  “It’s ok. I can relate.”

  A companionable silence fell between them for a time, before Buffy said, apropos of nothing, “I’ve met Dracula.”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh-huh. I sp’ose that’s why the idea of meeting, well, you doesn’t seem so crazy. I’ve already met one famous literary character, why not others? Who else would I meet, if I ever made it to Storybrooke? Tinkerbell? Red Riding Hood? Snow White?”

  “In truth, Snow White is Emma’s mother. Red Riding Hood’s a werewolf. They used to go adventuring together in the Enchanted Forest and they’re actually great friends.”

  “So Emma really is a fairytale Princess, and her dad is, like, Prince Charming?”

  “Aye.”

  “Oo-o-o-h-kay, getting weirder. I’ve been dead. Twice.”

  “I was dead, briefly, drowned in a water trough by the Wicked Witch. Emma saved me.”

  “That’s kinda how it was for me the first time, only I drowned in a puddle. Xander saved me, but not before my death activated the next Slayer. That was Kendra. She was killed by Drusilla, Spike’s whack job ex-girlfriend and Sire, a year later, and her death led to Faith being called. That’s how it worked for a really long time.”

  “Excuse me, but ‘whack job?’”

  “Cray-cray. Bonkers. Mental. Totally nuts. A few bricks shy of a load.”

  “Madness? There were times I thought I might succumb, back in Neverland again, trapped for over three hundred years. Tinkerbell was there also. We sought out each other’s company, on occasion, to relieve the tedium.”

  “Yow! I’m kinda having a hard time with that image. Have you ever seen Peter Pan?”

  “Seen him? By the Powers, there are times I wish I’d never laid eyes on the damned villain! He’s dead now, and good riddance.”

  “Um…I was actually talking about the movie.”

  “Ah. No. I remember Swan mentioned something about a perm, whatever that is, and a waxed moustache.”

  “In the movie version, Tink’s a little fairy lady who could fit in the palm of your hand. You really don’t look much like the movie version of you - for which you are grateful, trust me - so I suppose it makes sense that she wouldn’t either.”

  “We haven’t had much time for watching movies, I’m afraid. Emma’s shown me Dracula and Frankenstein – it was what she called a double feature - Back to the Future, Star Wars: a New Hope, and its sequel, The Empire Strikes Back. I’m looking forward to seeing Return of the Jedi, and Leia’s rescue of Han Solo.”

  “You identify with him, don’t you?”

  “Of course, though I flatter myself to say that I’m better looking.” 

  They caught up to a cable car just before Union Square. They slowed their steps so he could get a better look at it. He found something comfortably familiar in the woodwork and brass fittings. Most of the riders were seated, but a few heartier souls stood on the running boards while hanging on to the brass poles along the sides.

  They resumed their earlier brisk pace, overtaking the car in short order.

  “You’ll want to hang on up near the front on the right, to get the best view. We’ll come up over the crest of a hill, and you’ll see the bay dead ahead. You can’t miss it.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “The stop at Bush is only a couple of blocks further up. We shouldn’t have long to wait.”

  “I like what I’ve seen of it so far, but I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve gotten a closer look.”

  “Fair enough.”

 

  Once they reached their stop, he excused himself, and withdrew his arm from hers. She looked away for a moment to get out her pass and the money for his fare, and when she looked back, he’d produced an honest-to-goodness spyglass (from somewhere in his coat, no doubt) and was using it to peer down the street. Well, that was one way to get a better look at things.

  “I see cables above the street,” he said, lowering his glass, “but none of them go to the little car. Its cable is under the street then, yes?”

  “Yes. The metal tracks with the groove between them house the cables. The cables are pulled by motors, and the cars are pulled by the cables. There’s a grip, or gripman, on board who controls the speed of the car. It takes a lot of upper body strength, especially on the downhill part. The cars are pretty heavy, and they build up a lot of momentum. So far, there’ve only been two women as grips.”

  “I see.”

  The car pulled up at the stop. Hook ran his eyes over it appraisingly before climbing aboard. The attendant, a dark-skinned African-American woman, came over to collect their fare, and she gave him the same treatment. He noticed her noticing him, gave her a smile, and sketched a small bow in her direction. She grinned back at him, shook her head, and turned to Buffy. As the other woman moved away, Buffy swore she could hear a muttered “Dayum.”

  She looked over at him, to see that he had his left elbow crooked tightly around the post to keep his hand free. His attention was currently on the grip at his work. As near as she could tell, he seemed perfectly at ease. He swayed gracefully with the motion of the car as they started up again.

  Too bad about the Maritime Museum, she thought. One look at him and the folks there would go totally ape-dump.

  She leaned over and touched his arm as they entered Chinatown. She gestured outward, and he obligingly looked around with seemingly genuine interest. God, he was like a sponge, just soaking it all in. She felt a little pang of jealousy towards his Emma, even though she knew it wasn’t really fair. Now she had a better idea of how Faith must’ve felt when she’d first came to Sunnydale all those years ago.

  As the ride progressed, she fell into a reverie. Spike would look ridiculous in that coat with its high, stiff collar, but the rest of it (black, lots of leather – pants, boots and vest - a deep V-neck shirt) would suit him right down to the ground. A full moon hung low on the horizon, silvering the sails of their ship… her gown…his skin and hair.

   It was a pleasant little fantasy, until he went and ruined it by bitching about the frilly cuffs on the shirt, and being stuck below decks all day to avoid the sun while she could move about freely, without even his stories on telly to provide entertainment, and him bored out of his wits. Augh! He never could keep his big mouth shut. Jerk.

  In due time, they crested Nob Hill. The wind picked up then, ruffling his hair and playing about the folds of his coat. From the way he was holding his right arm, she got the impression he had his glass out again.

  She could tell some of the other riders had noticed him too. If they thought it a trifle odd…a man dressed like a pirate riding a cable car and peering through a spyglass… well, this was San Francisco. He wasn’t causing any trouble, and it’d make a great story to tell the folks back home.

  As they got nearer the waterfront, it occurred to her that she’d have to grab him, quick, and hustle his ass out of there once they stopped. Otherwise, he’d end up getting mobbed by a bunch of snap-happy tourists, and then she’d have to start throwing her weight around. She didn’t like doing that if she could help it, so it would be better to avoid the prospect altogether.

  She put thought into action as the car slowed to a stop, reaching for his arm. People waiting to board the car were already starting to point, call out, and wave to him, taking pictures with their cameras and cell phones as he turned his attention their way. After a moment’s hesitation, he started waving back to them. Then he looked over at her, grinning like a fool. She almost felt guilty for depriving him of the crowd’s adoration. Not that his ego needed any stroking.

  “We’ll have to make a break for it, Cap’n, otherwise we could be here all day.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  They leapt lightly from the car and hit the ground running, heading off to the southwest. They stopped a few blocks away so he could catch his breath. Then he threw back his head and let out a great whoop of laughter that ended in a wild, wordless cry.

  “Oh, Summers. What good fun! Truly, you’ve provided me with an adventure I won’t soon forget.”

  He produced a flask (just how many pockets did he have in that coat anyway?), uncapped it and held it out to her. She shook her head. He took a drink, recapped the flask, and put it away.

  Spike with a pulse. Laughing and running in the sunshine, blue eyes bright. Oh, God.

  Then she felt it.

  “Captain, keep your back to the wall and stay behind me.”

  He sobered immediately and she turned, drawing the stake from her waistband, eyes scanning their surroundings.

  “I know you’re here. Might as well step up and get what’s coming to you.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, little girl.”

  “Like I’m afraid of you? As if.”

  “Maybe not, but he is. I can smell it. Mmmmm-mmm-mmm.”

  “What is it with vampires and smelling things? God! Enough already. You can’t have him.”

  “Oh, I’ll have him, alright, but you first.”

  The vampire emerged from the shadows at the end of the alley and stalked closer. She shifted her stance to face him squarely. She didn’t sense any others. He looked like a homeless guy in his ragged, mismatched clothing. His hair and beard were scraggly and unkempt.

  “You’re not exactly dressed to impress, are you?”

  “So?”

  “Well, you could’ve put some effort into it. I’ve been up against the Slayer of Slayers, y’know. It may be outdated, but at least he’s got a Look.”

  “Like I give a crap about that has-been. I’ll be the one to succeed where he failed. Then we’ll see who’s got real style.”

  “Keep dreaming, dirt bag! Spike’s got more style in his little finger…”

  But then he was slumping back against the wall behind him, howling in pain.

  “Ow! Fuck! My eye!”

  “It’s no ruse, Slayer. Go. Do what you must.”

  She ran forward and drove her stake home. The vamp went poof, leaving them alone again. She turned to gape at him. He gave her a grin, and held something out so she could see. She moved closer. It was a small, exquisitely carved blowgun.

  “Ooh pretty! Practical, too. Thanks for the assist.”

  “The damned thing had completely dismissed me as a threat!”

  She had to smile at his aggrieved tone.

  “Well, he won’t be making that mistake again.”

  “Indeed. How is it, though, that such a creature was able to accost us during the day? And his face…Spike didn’t look anything like that in the picture you showed me.”

  “PigPen there came with the ‘new magic, new rules’ upgrade. The catch is his type's in game face 24/7. Spike’s old-school…for him, it’s ‘the night time is the right time.’ Plus, he’s only fangy and grrr when he wants to be.”

  “Interesting. I must say, The Slayer of Slayers sounds a most formidable foe.”

  “He’s always up for a challenge.”

  “Surely not…? Oh.”

  He could see it on her face.

  “Yeah. Come on. Dawn’s place isn’t far.”

  He slipped his blowgun back into place and dutifully followed after her. They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they reached the front stoop of Dawn’s building.

  She stopped.

  “Um…could you… I mean…”

  She raised her left arm.

  “What? My hook? Yes, of course. “

  He fished it out and reattached it, locking it solidly into place.

  “You know, Summers,” he paused and reached up to rub at his ear, “it’s been my experience that rarities are often in great demand, and as a consequence, highly valued.”

  “I value Spike. Honest. I do.”

  She couldn’t help the note of defensiveness in her voice.

  He studied her for a moment, brows arched then inclined his head to her.

  “I should never presume to suggest otherwise.”

  They went up the front steps and she pressed the buzzer for the intercom.

  “We didn’t order any vampires.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “I’ll let Dawnie know you’re here.”

  Willow buzzed them in to the building. Somewhat to Buffy’s surprise, Hook didn’t just start up the stairs to his left. Instead, he paused to look around.

  “Ah. There it is.”

  He went over to the elevator and pushed the call button.

  “Swan’s building in New York had one of these.”

  The door slid open and he made an ‘after you’ gesture. She got in, as did he, and the door slid closed again. She hit the ‘5’ for Dawn’s floor.

  He pressed his hand to his belly as the car came to a stop.

  “It’s like that in all of them, is it? That odd feeling you get in your stomach?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Ah, well.”

  Buffy turned left down the hall, Hook at her heels. She stopped in front of the door marked 55 and knocked.

  “I’ll get it!” rang out from inside. Willow again.

  Buffy heard the sound of the chain being pulled back, and the snick of the deadbolt.

  “Hey, Buffy.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Willow moved aside, carefully not issuing them an invitation, so they could enter. The sound of running water in the bathroom cut off, and Dawn came into the room moments later.

  “Oh My God!”

  She clapped her hands over her mouth and blushed furiously. She was staring at Hook like he was some strange new form of life. Buffy turned her eyes to him. It was the first time she’d seen him looking truly nonplussed.  

  Dawn stepped forward, moving closer to the group, but closer to the redhead in particular.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” She looked at her friend. “You see it too, right?”

  Willow nodded.

  Buffy sighed and rubbed her forehead.

  “Willow, Dawn…I’d like to present our visitor, Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones. Captain, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Willow Rosenberg and my sister Dawn.”

  “Ladies.”

  He bowed to them. It hadn’t taken him long to regain his composure.

  “If you’ll give us a moment, Captain, Willow and I need to talk. Would you like something else to drink? Water, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you. I have…my flask. How did you know?”

  “Spike’s a Jack Daniels man. I’m sensing you’re more the Bacardi type.”

  Willow and Dawn retreated to the kitchen. He looked over at Buffy.

  “Jack Daniels?”

  “Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey. Bacardi is a brand of-“

  “Rum.”

  “Like two peas in a mystical pod.”

  “And should we ever meet…?”

  “Charmaggedon…everything winks out in a flash.”

  “Captain, when you’re ready.”

  He looked around to see that Willow and Dawn had come back into the room. He turned back to Buffy.

  “It seems I’ll be taking my leave of you now, Summers.”

  “Looks like. Say ‘hi’ to Storybrooke for me.”

  He quirked a brow, smiled, bowed then turned and crossed over to the others.

  Dawn and Willow had joined hands. Dawn reached out to him, and he took her hand. Willow reached out to him too. He crooked his left elbow in such a way as to point his hook toward the floor so she could rest her hand on his arm.

  Buffy watched, but all she could see was Willow’s lips forming an unspoken Word. Dawn had tried to explain it to her once, with Willow doing her best with a tricky Key-to-English translation, but to no avail. One moment it was Hook standing there, the next it was Spike.

  Dawnie latched on to him immediately, leading him to the couch. They sat as she began to pepper him with questions and gabble on about Key-ish things. For his part, Spike looked bemused and affectionate, answering her as best he could. Buffy didn’t feel so bad that she couldn’t understand it all, because Spike didn’t seem to be faring much better, even though he was the one racking up the frequent flyer miles.

  She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Willow joined her there, eager to hear more about their notorious visitor. Buffy told her as much as she could, and they had a good laugh when she got to the bit about the tourists at the waterfront. Her friend was suitably impressed when she recounted Hook’s reaction to his first vampire slaying, too.

  “It’s like he was never a villain at all.”

  “Oh, he was. I could see it in his matrix.”

  “Yeah. He as much as admitted that he wasn’t always such a great guy. It sounded like Emma saved him from more than just the drowning.”

 

  Once Dawn was finished with her questions and the sun was low enough in the western sky, Buffy invited Spike out for patrol. He accepted readily enough, and off they went. They filled each other in on their respective encounters along the way.

  “I’m beginning to think that the worst part of my little excursions is the debriefin’ after. Makes my brain hurt. So if I understood any of what Bit was sayin’, it sounds like I’ve got at least one magical twin out there in the All-Of-It. Prob’ly more.”

  “And now you know one of ‘em’s famous.”

  “Yeah. Go figure.”

  “It’s kinda weird to think of Captain Hook as a real person, with a real name and real problems.”

  “True, but he’s also got a real princess to keep him warm at night, so there’s that. From what Emma said, that hook of his doesn’t slow him down a bit.”

  “Not so’s you’d notice.”

  Buffy stopped him then, putting her hand on his arm.

  “Am I too late?”

  “Too late for what, love?”

  “Us. Being with Hook today…he was so much like you.”

  “Being with him made you wanna be with me? S’pose I shouldn’t question it too closely.”

  “But that’s not how you roll, and we both know it. Well, yeah. It was a lot of fun, and then he said something in particular, about the value of rare things, and it got me thinking.”

  He shut his eyes for a moment and sighed. The ghost of a smile played about his lips.

  “You know what they say…better late than never.”

  He leaned in to her, she put her arms around his neck, and they kissed. Afterwards, they stood around a bit awkwardly. They shared a brief laugh when they realized they’d both been expecting something to happen.

  “True Love’s Kiss, eh?”

  “Fairytales. Too corny for us, I guess.”

  “The Brothers Grimm would run screamin’.”

  Buffy started walking again, and Spike fell into step beside her. Eventually she found his hand and laced her fingers with his. She took a couple more steps, only to be pulled up short. She turned to look at him, but even as she did, she could feel the change. His hand was now warm in hers. She could see a touch of color in his lips and cheeks.

  “Spike!”

  He held up his other hand, his expression thoughtful, seemingly turned inward. Releasing her hand, he looked around them. His eyes settled on the fire escape of a nearby building. He took a couple of long strides back, got a running start, and leaped up to the third floor, which was still in the sunlight.

  He made it look easy, clearing the railing with inches to spare and landing with a clatter. Then he put his hands on the railing and pushed himself up into a handstand. He held it for a moment before allowing his lower body to bend forward. Letting go of the railing, he dropped back down to land in a crouch.

  He sprang up, raced back to Buffy and grabbed her about the waist. He swept her off her feet and whirled her around.  She had her hands on his shoulders. He set her down, and they shared another kiss.

After they came up for air, Spike shook his head and looked up into the darkening sky.

  “God, I owe that man a drink.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> 'Charmaggedon' is the name of a Hal Sparks comedy special.


End file.
